


Wasted Time

by lollercakes



Series: Collections [7]
Category: Hunger Games (2012), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everlark Week Challenge, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 20:20:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lollercakes/pseuds/lollercakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the Capitol didn't win the Dark Days war? What if they held their own version of the Hunger Games?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wasted Time

“Katniss, stop it.” I grumble, rolling over in bed and looking at her as she pulls open another drawer. We leave tomorrow on the mission we’ve been training years for, the same mission that should destroy the Capitol’s own inward annihilation.

“I need to do something. I can’t sleep,” She hisses at me. I sigh and swing my feet to the floor, shifting until I’m leaning on my knees with my face in my hands. She always gets like this - antsy and feisty - before a mission.

I’ve known Katniss since I was five. She stood up in our ratty school auditorium to sing the Valley Song after our teacher asked for volunteers. To put it mildly, I’ve watched after her every day since that moment. But I wasted a lot of time watching. It took her joining the Rebellion movement for me to wake up and realize that I had to do something before she disappeared from my life.

That was five years ago.  

“What you _need_ is to get some sleep. You won’t be a help to anyone on the team if you’re passed out in the Nest.” I insist, referencing her post in the Nest, our planned sniper spot to assassinate Coriolanus Snow. Across the room, Katniss pauses, her hand clutched around a pair of balled up socks. I take the opportunity to strike, appealing to her responsible side, “You’re our key ingredient, remember? We need you to make the shot. Otherwise he’s going to keep producing the Games and Capitol kids are still going to be slaughtered every year.”

Ever since the war of the Dark Days, there has always been a division in the nation of Panem. After the war, the victorious outlying Districts joined together under District 13’s leadership, excelling in their mutual partnerships, while the defeated Capitol, having been bombed heavily, existed in squalor. It was a few decades ago, before I was even born, that Coriolanus Snow appeared in the Capitol and sold the Districts on a repayment game – he would provide an annual event of sacrifice to the Districts in return for the caged citizens of the Capitol to be allowed to expand into the Districts and out of their nuclear wasteland.

Initially, the trade had seemed fair. Districts would reap the benefit of witnessing the Capitol’s constant retribution and the Capitol people could rejoin society. But then the Games (aptly titled the Hunger Games as a tribute to the thirst for vengeance) became more brazen, more vicious and cruel. The Games went from being symbolic gestures to something blood thirsty. The age limit lowered, children were selected, the age limit was capped, and the atrocities became tenfold. All the while the Districts consumed, feasting on the violence that was packaged for them every year.

That is until Snow made the argument that ‘Capitol citizens’ referred to any child born of Capitol blood. The Games then included all District children conceived from District-Capitol unions.

Children like Primrose Everdeen, Katniss’ sister who was Reaped in her second year of eligibility. Katniss could do nothing to stop it – she was District born through and through and no matter how hard she screamed, no matter how hard she clawed at the Peacekeepers who performed the containment of the randomly selected Tributes, she could not take her sister’s place in the Arena.

And so when her sister’s body came home in a casket, I watched as she walked to the Hob and joined the underground movement of the Rebellion. I joined soon after and while I claim I did it out of a sense of justice, I’d be lying if I denied I did it to protect her.

The Rebellion was formed in District 12, our home District, not long after the Games were created. It was first conceived by a group of District citizens who believed that to move forward all of Panem would have to unite. They argued in favour of unity, not repayment, and the Games were their catalyst for war. For decades they’ve been working on undermining the District and Capitol governments through a network of spies and rebels but no plan has been as integrated as the dual assassination of President Coin, leader of the Districts, and Coriolanus Snow, producer of the Games. And now it’s the night before that plan is enacted, the one that could return peace to the nation, and our key player won’t sleep.

“I know.” It’s all she says as she slumps her shoulders, replacing the socks and turning back to me with a scowl on her lips. “I know I need to sleep. But I can’t, not with you right there.”

Her words catch me off guard and I’m left spinning. I’ll admit, this is the first time we’ve shared a private room in all the time that we’ve been assigned to the same team, hell, even since I’ve known her. We didn’t start out this way – in fact, it had taken me six months to get into the Rebellion, two years to get assigned to her team, and another fifteen months before she’d even talk to me without a scathing remark to follow it up. Not to mention the fact that we rarely had private rooms in camp – usually the whole team slept together in one large bunker.

But tonight was different. Gale Hawthorne, our team lead, had assigned his group into their pairs as a last ditch effort to solidify team synchronicity. And of course, being Katniss’ spotter, we ended up sharing a room.

“You sleep near me all the time Katniss, this isn’t any different.” I say quietly as I get to my feet. I’m standing in front of her, my palms itching to take hold of her hands and comfort her, but I know that I can’t. Not today. Not with that look on her face.

“This _is_ different, Peeta. This could be the last time.” I watch her hands smooth the socks out back into the drawer. “I don’t want to waste the last time.” She whispers it so quietly that I almost don’t hear it above the hum of the fluorescent light above us.

My heart seems to stop in my chest at her words. The last time for what? Clearly I must be imagining it. Katniss Everdeen has not once in all the time I’ve known her, in all the time we’ve spent alone in the Nest preparing, made any move that could be classified as a reciprocation of my well disguised affections. If fact, I’d argue that she goes out of her way to discourage any attention from anyone because if there’s one thing I know about her, it’s that the mission comes first.

That her sister’s memory comes first.

That’s why when I close the drawer between us with a quiet click I’m not so much prepared for her pushing me into the wall as I am for her lips to find mine in a fierce kiss that leaves my body thrumming.

And it doesn’t stop. Pressed up against the wall, I feel Katniss’ fingers pulling at the hem of my t-shirt, lifting it and tearing if from my body. Her hands follow the line of my sternum, scratching lightly down into the trail of hair that leads to my boxers. My now well _tented_ boxers.

But even though it feels good – fantastic even – it doesn’t feel right. I can’t take advantage of her like this. Not now. Not tonight.

“Katniss,” I hiss as her lips find my neck. “Katniss, _wait_ ,” I try again and lift my hands to her shoulders, forcing distance between us and a shocked expression onto her face.

“What?” She gasps, her hands on her hips as she huffs for breath.

“We can’t do this.” I try and she laughs. She laughs and she pulls at the tie to her braid and lets loose her long dark hair that I’ve longed to run my fingers through since it was in two braids and not one.

“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than this moment right now,” Katniss claims as she lifts the hem of her shirt over her head and exposes her sports bra and thin frame. I gulp. “Don’t tell me you don’t want this. Don’t say it’s not a good time,” Her hands are at her waist now, pulling the tie that holds her sleep shorts on her hips. “Now is the only time we might have and I refuse to waste it. I want you, Peeta Mellark. Now take off your goddamn shorts.”

She’s standing before me, bare as the day she was born, her hands commandingly placed on her hips as her loose hair covers her breast. She’s smiling, a bright, toothy grin that I’ve only ever seen a few times in all the times I’ve known her. I was always the reason for those smiles.

My boxers drop to the ground and she crashes into me again, moving us away from the wall and towards the bunks on the other side of the room. We stagger backwards until my knees hit the lower bunk and I collapse down as her body covers mine. Her lips slip from mine again as her hands slide against my skin. Her fingers curl into my hair and she pulls gently when her teeth find my earlobe. I can’t stop the moan that escapes me as her legs straddle my thigh and she rubs herself against me.

“Oh fuck,” I hiss when her left hand slips down and grips me firmly, her movements precise. Her wet core slides against my leg, eliciting a soft panting groan from her own lips. Encouraged by the sound and trying to play fair, I palm her breast and pull at her hardened nipple. She keens at my motions and presses more firmly against me, her hand squeezing and moving on my cock.

I am delirious. I am overwhelmed.

“I want you.” She moans, her lips playing at my chest.

“You have me. You’ve always had me.” I groan in return and sit up, bringing her with me. I hold her at an arm’s length for just a moment, recapturing my breath as my gaze meets hers. Grey on blue, lust on desire. I want to tell her I love her. That I’ll always love her. But it’ll scare her off. She’ll bolt and I’ll never-

“I love you,” She blurts. The hand that was stroking me ceases and instead flies to cover her lips, her shocked expression half hidden behind her hand. At first, my breath catches in my chest. And then I smile, a big foolish boyish smile.

Instead of saying ‘I’ve waited forever to hear you say it’ I can only respond with one thing: “I love you, too.”

My smile is mirrored when she drops her hand from her lips. I waste no time in lunging forward to capture her mouth with mine, my tongue finding hers and my hands tangling in her hair. Her hips return to rocking against my leg as her hand once again finds my length, dragging across its tip achingly slow. Two can play at this game, I think, and drop my fingers to her core, slipping and rubbing slow circles around her bud of nerves.

I can feel her body tense and release as my fingers continue their assault, pulling moans from her lips. She doesn’t hold back when she slips to her knees before me and pulls my length into her mouth, her eyes staring me down as she sucks me off. I forget how to breathe and resort to guttural grunts and panting as she pulls me in deeper, her tongue following the swollen veins. I can feel my hips jutting up, desperate to find release, before I pull her off and up to me.

I’m kneeling on the bed as she crawls up to join me. Wrapping her legs around my waist she guides me into her heat and we both nearly lose ourselves in the feeling. All fears, all nerves, all anxieties about tomorrow slip away as she lifts and lowers herself on me. Resting my head on her shoulder I watch in fascination as I disappear in and out of her and we slowly become one.

“Fuck Katniss,” I grunt. Her only response is her teeth biting my neck.

It’s slow at first, the way she rocks against me, but then I can’t take the slick pressure of her around me and I thrust up into her. She takes the hint and soon we’re panting as our sweat slicked bodies collide in frenzied movements. I can feel myself nearly at the edge and I want her there with me. My fingers once again find her bundle of nerves and I can hear her getting close with me.

“Come for me.” I whisper and increase the movements of my hips.

The moment when she cries out, when her nails dig into my shoulders and her walls clench around me, I finally let go, pushing myself deeper and losing myself in her body.

We collapse together on the bed, our muscles jelly and our bodies cooling in the cold air of the room. My hand grips her hip to keep us close and I listen to the sounds of our scattered breathing.

“That was,” I start, sucking down air and rolling until she’s tucked close to me.

“Amazing.” She finishes for me. I can hear the smile in her voice. “Why did we waste so much time?”  She asks after another moment filled with only the sounds of our slowly steadying breaths.

“I didn’t think you even knew I existed, apart from as your spotter.” I answer honestly. I feel her shiver next to me and I pull the blankets up, covering us, protecting us.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, but I was waiting for you to make the move. I didn’t think you felt the same and I didn’t want to lose my partner. It was stupid of me.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” I insist and tuck my head so that I can breathe in her scent. The same scent of pine and fresh grass that’s haunted my dreams for years. “Tomorrow we’ll do what we have to do, and then we’ll be free.”

“And then we’ll be at war,” She corrects and turns until we’re nose to nose. I nod, knowing that it’s the likely outcome of what will happen next.

“We’ll be alright. I won’t waste anymore time. I promise.” We lay together there in silence until our bodies cool and our heart beats return to normal. I find my arms wrapped around her, her small body tucked against my chest and our legs intertwined, as we begin to doze off.

“Stay with me?” I’m nearly asleep when she asks me quietly. My heart flip flops in my chest at the quietly vulnerability in her words.

“Always.” I affirm and pull her even closer.


End file.
